


Deep in the Count

by DRiver2U



Series: Sliding into Home [6]
Category: Veronica Mars (TV), Veronica Mars - All Media Types
Genre: Baseball, Dutch, Family, Gen, The Netherlands
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-25
Updated: 2021-02-25
Packaged: 2021-03-16 18:08:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29704530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DRiver2U/pseuds/DRiver2U
Summary: This is part 6 of the "Sliding into Home" series and is set about 7 years after "Sinterklaas on Deck." The main characters of Veronica and Logan remain in the story as do Mateo and Katie and their children. This fluffy story is but a glimpse into their lives for a few hours on a Saturday in Palo Alto, California.I want to thank the many readers who seem to find their way to this story even years after I originally wrote and published it here. It is incredible to me that I still have people giving kudos on this baseball series, and I am deeply humbled by the kind words, the kudos, and the "hits" for each section. I am particularly grateful to CubbieGirl1723 and AmyPC who kept encouraging me to write another glimpse into the lives of these people. I also need to thank EllieBear for challenging me to find a place in my writing for a certain French slang term. Finally, thanks also to Heavenli24 for her insight into retirement options for Naval officers.As always, Veronica and Logan do not belong to and were not created by me. All mistakes are mine. Mateo and Katie and their children, however, are mine. They continue to live with me every day and their stories live on, if only in my mind.
Relationships: Logan Echolls/Veronica Mars
Series: Sliding into Home [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/791496
Comments: 9
Kudos: 17





	Deep in the Count

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CubbieGirl1723](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CubbieGirl1723/gifts), [AmyPC](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmyPC/gifts), [EllieBear](https://archiveofourown.org/users/EllieBear/gifts), [Heavenli24](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Heavenli24/gifts).



"Promise me, babe. I'm begging you," Mateo pleads to the woman hovering over him as she stands next to his side of the bed. "No more sleeping with him. I can't take another night like that." 

His wife looks away from the platinum wedding band she's slipping back onto her finger and into her husband's dark eyes edged by thick lashes. "I can't help it. I've gone soft in my old age." 

Mateo eases his right arm from under the covers and stretches it until his hand settles on her freshly-shaved thigh. "Well, I'm pretty sure I've now gone permanently soft," he complains as his left hand strokes his boxer briefs under the covers of the bed, "since he kicked me in the groin three times during the night. Should've tossed him from bed. Three strikes rule, you know. Or I should've been wearing a cup." He lets his hand wander under her baggy shorts until he caresses the lace edging of her hipsters. "And that's not to mention the elbow to the nose and the breathing down my neck." 

"You don't complain when I gasp for breath in bed," Katie responds and steps away from his touch to squat down to tie her Adidas sneakers. 

"Different scenario completely," Mateo sighs. His outstretched arm hangs motionless until he realizes he can just reach the top of her damp hair if he moves his shoulder slightly. Her signature scent of lavender deodorant, grapefruit soap, and chamomile shampoo waft into his nostrils. She never wears perfume, claiming it gives her a headache, but delicious smells cling to her like the last Christmas tree needle to the carpet. "You make it worse when you coddle him. He's confused. He's a giant who's convinced he's a tiny baby."

As Kate inhales, she finds her mind flits to the idea that she needs to change all the sheets in the house tomorrow. The thought of one more romp in these dirty sheets tonight sends a smile to her face and a ping to her abdomen. She thinks it's embarrassing, if she's being honest with herself, how attracted she still is to her husband after all these years together. It's one of the few parts of her life she has never been able to control.

"He'll always be my baby," Katie whispers.

Her implication hangs in the air of the absence of a fourth child, the unexpected consequence of their indecision about what contraception to use after the birth of what they believed was to be their third and last child. 

They were experiencing the most difficult time in their marriage. Mateo apologized for weeks but to no end until Katie sequestered their children on the island of Schiermonnikoog. Whether it was the breeze from the North Sea or the daily visit to the ice cream shop or the lack of honking horns and exhaust fumes, he stopped apologizing when he found his way to them and settled into their holiday routine. She stopped accusing, and somehow they wound up tangled in a Frisian bed together even though they could not have a decent conversation or spare a kind word.

Weeks later, they stared at the white stick on the bathroom sink and wordlessly decided to tolerate each other and have another child; she, they were both convinced, would be the glue to keep them together. The fighting, or lack of fighting or any words at all, culminated in the event Katie still refuses to discuss even with her closest friends. The arguments and the prolonged silences stopped, and Katie blamed what she called "her own hubris" for the loss. Determined to make up for what she saw as the greatest misfortune of her life, she became even more organized and more resolute to being the lifeblood to the family she had been gifted. In some way, this ghost child became the caulking that filled in their cracks and made them solid again. 

"Well, he wasn't little _in utero_ and he'll never be," Mateo counters. "Where'd you wind up last night, by the way?"

Katie does a quick duck walk motion to switch shoe position as she replies, "His bed. I drifted off sometime during Wim's soliloquy about why people don't understand the nuances of determining what constitutes a balk." 

"That's my boy." 

"Oh, and he told me this gem," Katie continues, "You know why umpires aren't hungry? Because they're always cleaning the plate." She shakes her head at remembering how Willem had giggled so hard at his own joke that he had hardly been able to spit out the punch line. She doesn't think she needs to worry about him deciding on a career in the entertainment industry. 

"Let's hope he continues to thrive in his math class," Mateo groans. 

"You know the schedule today, right?" Katie asks as she stands up and rotates her back and shoulders. Her t-shirt rides up to expose her belly button as she lifts her arms in a final stretch towards the ceiling. When she lowers her arms, she uses one hand to squeeze Mateo's fingers and gives him a quick kiss on his sun-chapped lips. She almost loses her train of thought when she is overcome with how sexy the roughness of his morning stubble is. "You know who needs orange slices and who needs apples, right? They can't be mixed up because that backup outfielder gets a rash when he's around anything citrus." 

"You've told me multiple times, babe," Mateo responds with a sigh, knowing there will also be a detailed list on the counter when he wrangles his two oldest sons into the kitchen for a protein-filled breakfast. "And I'll..."

"Be nice, right? Please be nice today." Katie turns from the bed and strides to the other side of the room before she hears him mutter under his breath.

"I'm always the one who has to be fucking nice." 

**********

"Is there such a thing as too much competition?" Mateo asks the woman standing just inside the doorway. She's leaning against the metal frame, one foot hooked over the opposite ankle. Mateo's thick dark hair has crept over his ears and down the back of his neck now that his academic year is finished. The thickening stubble on his face displays less than a dozen gray hairs. The clash of two voices behind him are in sync with the thump of their body blows. "Hiya, ma," he sighs as he places his hands on the petite blonde's shoulders. "Missed you. As always."

Veronica turns her head to see her companion sporting a gray raglan shirt with the imprint of "ROUND TOP PIZZA" in the same blue color as the sleeves. His two sons still sport official uniforms of the Palo Alto Little League Association and look up from their phones only when they run into the backside of their father. 

"At least we don't have to bundle up in parkas to cheer him on today," Veronica jokes as she taps the hand that rests on her shoulder. She looks at the boys, one closing in on becoming a young man, and notices again how much they grow in just a short time. "Boys," she directs as she looks behind her only, though not biological, progeny, "hats off inside." Immediately, the youngsters pull their caps from their heads, rub their inherited thick hair, jam the caps into the crook of their father's arm, and beam at the woman. 

"Where's Logan?" the taller boy asks, his voice cracking on the last syllable. He looks alternately behind him and across the expanse of a gymnasium.

"Aren't you happy with just me?" Veronica chides with a smile and makes her way towards the boy. She wraps her arms around him and he cuddles her body into his. "I've missed you, Rini Tin Tin."

"Move over," commands the other boy towards his brother and Veronica makes room for the second child to sidle in next to her. "Did you miss me?" he asks and she nods and smiles. She repositions her arms so they envelope both boys and she kisses each of their faces as they lower their heads to her lips. They've grown too tall for her to bend down to kiss the tops of their heads. Soon, she will be the shortest member of the family. "Where's he?" the younger sibling follows up his brother's question. 

Veronica loosens her grip on the brothers and looks down the hall to see her boyfriend strolling down the corridor towards them with several plates of pizza slices stacked on top of each other. The pockets of his shorts bulge with water bottles sticking from them. His shorn hair reminds her that he has been home only a short time and she looks forward to it growing out so she can believe that would be the last time he leaves. His voice enters the room just as his body does.

"Mateo."

"Logan."

The start of every encounter begins the same way with these two men. There are no fist bumps or handshakes or head nods, just the one word between the two to establish each other's existence in one another's world. They sway to the same dance they've been doing for years, neither sure if changing the pattern will disrupt the routine they have established just as a pitcher jumps over the foul line at the end of an inning. 

"PEEETES - AAAHHHH!" Willem exclaims as he closes his eyes in delight and throws his fists over his head. "Logan got us pizza, Rini." The two brothers don't bother to include their father in any further conversation. Their only focus is their favorite serviceman and the plates of food he's delivering. With just their bodies surrounding him, they change his path away from the adults and towards the row of empty bleachers. The boys each grab two plates from Logan and sit leaving enough room between them for their best friend to fit into after he digs the plastic containers from his pockets. 

"Go easy, guys," Mateo instructs. "Lunch is in the car. Hummus and turkey wraps." The brothers look at each other, roll their eyes, and smirk before each folds a slice in half and sticks the ends in their mouths. 

Mateo and Veronica ease their way toward the bleacher and step up onto the metal bench behind the boys and their hero. Mateo turns to his left and raises a hand in recognition of two other fathers he runs into at sporting locations. He can't recall either's name or which kids belong to them. He relies on his wife to fill in the blanks for him because he hasn't decided yet if the two men are worth the effort. 

"I haven't seen Kate," Logan remarks as he turns his head slightly up and to the left, acknowledging the man behind him. He hasn't been in contact with his former coworker in months and he never feels landed until he has laid eyes on the most stable person in their hive. His voice looms over the sounds of volleyballs bouncing and whistles blowing from across the vast room. 

"Dre's over there. First court," Wim says as he points with greasy fingers to the netted area to their left. Logan passes him a napkin hoping the residue from the pepperoni lands on the disposal paper rather than on his clothes. "Mom's gotta be with him." 

The youngest in their family dynamic stands with the other 7- to 9-year olds attempting to whack balls over the net. Although the youngest person on the volleyball team, he looms over his teammates. He stands with his arms crossed and watches the others hit the balls that bounce around the court. When a ball lands at his feet, he picks it up and serves it over the net as easily as someone who has been playing for several years. 

Dre. Drewes. Katie had thrown new names at Mateo at least twice a week for the last month of her pregnancy. None had stuck with her, and Mateo was convinced he would only know the name of his third offspring when the birth certificate was handed to him for his signature. One day, Katie turned over a grocery receipt and wrote the name Drewes Mees. The silky white rectangle landed in Mateo's lap as he parked the car in their driveway. He looked at it knowing it would be changed before he could become attached. "Fine, babe, whatever you want. But I have no idea what those words are." 

"Say it like this - DRAY-vus. We could call him Dre for short. Middle name sounds like mace, you know rhymes with my brother's name. Spelled the same way but with an M, not a K." Mateo was convinced that she was trying to make life as difficult as possible for their next baby. Why should an affluent child from Palo Alto have an easy life? At least she would give him a name no one would be able to spell or pronounce. 

"Sure, babe," he acquiesced feeling guilty that she could barely get the seatbelt tied around her waist. He didn't feel like battling for a name like David that would be pronounced similarly in any language. He knew the reason he could be so casual about the issue was because it was a rare occurrence for him to use anything other than one of his nicknames for his children. Katie changed the name three more times before they left for the hospital, and Mateo was surprised to hear her call their baby Dre as the puckered body was placed on her chest. Mees had become Arjen, but Dre stuck. 

Logan watches as a crown of red hair emerges from below a circle of blond moms. He sees her brush her knees and the backs of her shorts as she moves from floor to standing. Her hair is longer than Logan remembers it, the natural curls more like waves as they loosen from the weight of the extended hair. When the referee blows his whistle one last time, he points to Dre's team. The opposing group of children number only four players on the court with one more crying into his mother's back. No one likes to win by forfeit except on a Saturday afternoon when the sunshine is beckoning. 

Katie picks up Dre's duffle, thanks the overworked coach, and scans the exiting crowd for the rest of their party. Katie points Dre towards the bleachers and they walk over hand in hand. She cherishes each moment one of her sons is still willing to be in physical contact with her and dreads the days when they won't want to tell her their secrets. 

Katie whispers in Dre's ear as they walk and Dre drops his hand from hers. He greets his too-often-away family member. "Hey," he says quietly when he stands in front of Logan his arm and hand extended for a shake. 

"Sorry, have we met?" Logan deadpans and extends his hand. He sees the eyes light and the smile form on the face in front of him. "I don't think we know each other. I'm looking for a little guy. Only about so tall." 

"Logan! It's me," Dre giggles. "Drewes." 

"No, can't be. What'd you say your name is again?"

Dre roars with laughter and drops his head as he leans into Logan's chest. "It's me. You know me. I'm your favorite. I'm everybody's favorite." 

"But weren't you, like, this tall," he settles his hand a foot below Dre's head, "the last time we saw each other?" 

Dre continues to laugh and puts his arms around Logan's waist. "Did you miss me? We all missed you. I think I missed you the most, but Rini thinks you're really his best friend not mine." 

"I did you miss you. Missed all of you," he concedes and realizes how painful and truthful the statement is. 

Katie stands beside her son holding Dre's bag on her shoulder. She meets Logan's eyes and smiles. "Welcome home, Mouth." 

"I believe I have to call you Dr. Mulder now," Logan says as he loosens his way from Dre to the arms of his former coworker. 

Katie blinks slowly and says, "'Bout time, huh? They were ready to throw me out of the program. Kept threatening that my dissertation would be invalid if I didn't turn it in. Seemed like a waste of money not to finish. But really, does the world need another 250 pages on nonlinear dynamics?" She chuckles before continuing, "And I've still got the least impressive resume in the family." 

Logan knows this may be how she feels in a family of overachievers, but he has heard Mateo bragging to Veronica about how Katie's research on veterans' performances in college classes has become the standard for university recruiting. He's quite sure her salary is not based on the amount of money her grant writing and algorithms bring to her university, but he's seen her listed as a keynote speaker on more than one educational conference pamphlet left sitting on their kitchen counter.

"Well, it's impressive. Three busy kids," Logan pauses and throws a glance towards Mateo, "job and keeping the family working. Congrats. You deserve it." 

"I'm sure Mateo was waiting for your return to throw me a big party and dole out the gifts," Katie says as looks at her husband trying to tame the movements of her two oldest sons. She's found her way from Logan's grasp and into a bear hug from Dre. They are swaying around in a circle when Veronica's voice interrupts the silence. 

"How'd you like volleyball, Dre?" 

Dre stops dancing and becomes serious. He looks at his mother knowing it is her favorite sport, the one she played growing up and in college. "It's OK, but," he pauses not wanting to hurt his mother, "I think speed skating's better. Opa skates. And he's, like, old and everything." There will never be a bond stronger than the love between Kate's father and his youngest grandson. "Lucky number 11," as Johan always refers to him before smothering him with love and kisses. 

"But that commute to Oakland and the freezing arena," Veronica complains. "You sure that's the one you want to pick?" 

"It's an oval, not an arena," Dre corrects and turns his attention back to Logan, the person he thinks he can convince to buy him his own pair of clap skates. "Those skates are crazy cool the way they click with every step. And the skins make you go super fast."

"You're going to be too tall to be a skater," Rien chimes in as he leans into his father's side. "You need to be a pitcher. Lots of great pitchers have been really tall. Like Verlander and Aardsma and Hamels," he pauses after the Dutch names, "and Sale and Lester and Clemens. Even Cy Young and Sandy Koufax were pretty tall. Right, Dad?" 

"Sure, schatje," Mateo contributes knowing not to challenge his son's photographic recall of statistics and text on the back of baseball cards.

"And you'll be able to throw 100 miles an hour being that tall, right Dad?" Wim chimes in anxious to seem as informed as his older brother. 

"Well, it takes more than just height," Mateo responds. "He has to want to throw that fast and then he has to practice. Practice a lot."

Veronica moves toward the youngest boy and comforts him from the voices surrounding him. "You've got lots of time to try things, kiddo. Don't worry about what your brothers say. Find the one, or maybe two, you like best. Baseball will always be there." 

Mateo pulls his phone from his pocket and glances at the time. Kate's itinerary scrolls through his mind as he catches his wife's eyes on him. 

"Everyone ready for lunch?" Katie asks before she spots the empty plates and dirty napkins on the bleachers. It's hard to misunderstand the meaning of the orange-tinted grease stains and she wonders if she should have eased up on her plans for the day. She chides herself for not letting her family live in the moment, as she keeps hearing television personalities tell her she needs to do. Pizza isn't the pre-lunch snack she would have suggested if she had been asked, but she can't fault Logan's need to spoil her children. And she knows her sons well enough to understand that they are always hungry, even after a couple of slices of cheese drenched in greasy pepperoni.

"Bol Park, right?" Mateo confirms. 

"By the playground equipment," Katie instructs. "If the tables are full, we'll just find a tree to sit under."

"I'm going with Logan," yells Rien as he jumps from his father's clutch and latches on to Logan's arm. 

"Me too," counters Wim. 

Dre looks between his mother and father. "Should I go with Dad since I haven't seen him in a few hours?" 

"Go on. I'll meet you all there," Katie directs. As she watches everyone leave her, she looks forward to an uninterrupted bathroom break and a car ride with Ray LaMontagne's husky voice serenading her for 15 minutes. 

**********

The red gingham tablecloth is secured by clips that fit around the edge of the table. Biodegradable plates are set, 4 on one side and 3 places on the other. Mateo fills each glass from the Igloo filled with ice water and passes them around the table. A tray of turkey and hummus wraps surround the three vegetarian options in the center of the platter. Sliced vegetables are housed in reusable containers with the lids off. Blue corn chips remain in their opened bag while the light green guacamole glistens in the sun. 

"Mom," Wim demands as he glares across the table at his mother, "you forgot the dip. I can't eat cucumbers without dip. You know that." Katie doesn't bother to answer as Mateo reaches into the cooler and pulls out the last two items from the insulated bag. He passes the Sistema bowl to his son at the end of the table and hears the expected mumbled response, "Never mind." 

Veronica's triple chocolate brownies with peanut butter frosting, Rini's favorite, are hidden in the reusable grocery tote resting under her purse. Veronica knows the container will be empty by the time they leave the park. Their love language is delicious food, full stomachs, and licked fingers. 

Willem and Rien have squeezed next to Logan so tightly he has a hard time lifting his arms without tightening his shoulders. Mateo, at the end of the bench, spreads his arms on the table and waits for food to be passed to him. Of course, Dre is happy to nestle between the two women who always seem to supply the nourishment. 

Katie places a green wrap on Dre's plate and holds the tray out to her son across the table from her before placing it back in the center of the table. Her narrow wedding band, the only worn at the table, glints in the sun. Arms reach out, carrots crunch from a mouth chewing too wide open, flies and bees buzz around their heads and plates. The conversation lapses as everyone consumes, concentrating on the foods from the local farmers' market. This is the California afternoon people write songs about. 

"So," Logan attempts as he clears his throat and takes a quick sip of water. "I've got some news." 

Mateo stops chewing mid-bite and closes his eyes. As Katie looks down the table towards her husband she can see him mentally reciting the mantra his therapist gave him. When he opens his eyes, they land squarely on her eyes and she sends him a telepathic message to keep his thoughts to himself. 

"What kind of news?" Dre asks from across the table. "Good or bad?" Dre takes a swig of his water and it sloshes down the sides of his mouth onto his shirt. As he feels the coldness of the water seep through his shirt and onto his skin, Dre inhales and he sucks in his stomach to move away from the contrast. Katie hands him yet another napkin. 

"Good, I think," Logan continues and looks across the table at Veronica. "We think." 

Katie sees Mateo turn his head as he whispers under his breath before he turns back to the other family members. 

"I think, well, we think, that is, Veronica and I think, that this might be a good time for me to consider retiring." Logan looks down, rubs his forehead, and then glances up into the cloudless sky. 

"Like you'd stop flying?" Rien asks mid-motion of thrusting another snap pea slathered in yogurt sauce into his mouth. "Like forever?" 

"Oma and Opa are retired, but they're loads older than you," Wim interjects. 

Logan nods and hesitates before answering. "I could keep flying. Maybe buy my own plane. Just not fly in the Navy. For the Navy."

"Can people buy airplanes?" Dre asks, stopping the rhythmic tapping that is as omnipresent as his humming and spontaneous singing, all traits he inherited from his grandfather. 

Logan chuckles and looks at the innocence across from him. "Only the lucky ones, and I can't buy the same plane I'm used to flying but there're other options. Something smaller. Something I can take you up in." 

Dre looks at his mother. "Can he really do that, Mom?" Katie smiles and places a kiss on the top of his head, but she doesn't commit to allowing her son to be the first passenger in this hypothetical flying situation. 

"It's about fucking time," comes the delayed response from the end of the table. 

"Mateo," Katie says. 

"Sorry, babe. Guys, don't swear. People might think we didn't raise you right." Mateo picks up the last piece of turkey sitting on his plate that has dropped from his wrap and wipes his mouth with the red napkin. "It's time, man. Way past time. You need to be taking care of," he gives a side nod across the table as he slips the turkey into his mouth, "ma." 

With a sneer, Veronica scolds, "I don't need anyone to take care of me." She crosses her arms and stares across from her. 

"You know what I mean," Mateo retaliates. "You need to take care of each other. All the time. Every day of the year. It's time." 

There's a pause in the conversation, but the world around them keeps buzzing as does the tension at the table. Cars wiz by with music blaring. A startled child yelps as she lands on her back from a wild ride down the twisting slide. Crows caw at the possibility of abandoned leftovers. Freshly mowed grass with a hint of manure drifts through the air. The chorus of "Roller Coaster" hums from Dre's closed mouth. Kate studies the family around her, but she learned early in her relationship with Mateo to keep the thoughts about her in-laws tight within herself. 

"What do you think, Kate? You've been quiet," Logan questions. 

"Is it just time or did something happen?" she inquires and catches Logan's eye. 

Logan feels Kate's blue-eyed stare penetrate the inside of his heart and has to look away from her before she sees too much. He glances at Veronica across the table, hears Rien try to hide a belch, and feels Wim's weight on his left arm. 

Logan thinks back to that moment when he went to land and he hesitated for a split second. It wasn't enough that anyone noticed, not long enough for there to be a problem, but he knew. He oscillated, he thought about his actions. It wasn't instinct and he knew in that moment he couldn't allow himself another tour. He had two choices. He could stay in and never fly again or he could retire. He knows he doesn't want to sit at a desk or listen to punks 20 years younger than him talk about the true love of his life. That leaves him with one option.

Veronica gives him a slight nod, but the pause seems longer than necessary. He finally says, "Yeah, it's time." 

Katie continues to stare at him but finally declares, "Well, we'd all like one less thing to worry about." 

"Then can I go to their house after school?" Dre asks. "Homework Lounge is the worst. It's so boring and the games are for babies." 

"You are a baby, you baby," Wim accuses. "Wa wa wa."

Kate reaches over and covers her son's mouth with her hand before he can stick out his tongue at his older brother. "Boys. Please." 

"If anyone gets to go their house after school, it should be me," Wim insists. 

"You?" Rien responds. "Why you? I'm the oldest. I get to do everything first. Right, dad? Shouldn't I get to be the one to go?" 

"Hey, hey, enough," Mateo stalls, "I doubt that Logan's retirement is taking place tomorrow." 

"No, but we'll put things in motion, and I think it'll go pretty quickly," Logan responds. 

Rien makes three short, quick claps before he speaks. "Sweet." Just like that he has commanded that any problem, controversy, or adversity are over for the boys. "Remember, you told us you'd take us golfing again," Rini says as he looks at Logan. "Me and Wim. Remember. And surfing. You said you'd teach us to surf. Remember?" 

"Why can't I go golfing?" Dre asks. 

"You're too young, broertje," Wim mocks. This time Dre does stick his tongue out at his brother. 

It's difficult for Logan not to laugh at these companions, these best friends. They hassle each other, but they can't stand to be apart from one another. It was until just the last few months they had all slept in the same room together, three single beds jammed into one bedroom. All three brothers had insisted to their parents that they were not to be separated. Ever. Because sleeping without one brother in the room was like being the last person picked up in the school parking lot. 

But when Rini turned 13, Kate overruled all the men in the house and forced the pubescent child into his own room where he could experience the changes on his own. She believed he needed to be able to close the door and do all the things young men need to do in private. In reality, it didn't matter how many rooms there were in the house or how many doors there were because it was rarely quiet or private and the boys told each other everything. 

A separate bedroom is only the first step, as Logan knows too well. He's actually looking forward to the days when Rien approaches him about girls, dating, driving, and even sex. He's already asked Logan what it means when the French foreign exchange student living next door croaks out, "Quelles oranges!" when he ogles a woman in spandex jogging by the houses. Logan is excited to see where the next few years bring these soon-to-be-men. 

"Before we set foot on a golf course again," Logan interjects, "we need to get you back to a driving range. And Dre's old enough for that." 

"Let's go tomorrow," Mateo says thinking about how nice a lazy Sunday morning would feel swinging something other than a baseball bat. Logan turns to look at Mateo and they nod and smile at each other. They don't need to exchange words to understand their simmering rivalry is finished. 

"The thing is," Veronica adds, "we're not sure we want to live in Palo Alto all the time. Maybe we want something new. An adventure. Logan misses the ocean." 

"You miss the ocean more than you'd miss us?" Dre asks. 

"No, of course not. It's not just about missing the ocean," Logan says as he sends a questioning expression to Veronica. 

"Wherever you wind up, though, you'd be able to be here for the big days, right? Birthdays, graduations, stuff like that," Mateo says as much to ask as to reassure himself. "We'd still be able to count on you to be here."

"Of course," Logan and Veronica say in unison. 

"And we won't sell the condo here," Veronica assures. "We aren't leaving. Not now. Just maybe. In the future. We don't know." She looks at the three children she has nurtured since birth and wonders how she will ever let them grow up or let them leave. Palo Alto was not her intended home. She had plans to see the world, plans to live in exotic locales. But life and love sent in her in a different direction. It made her a mother and a grandmother, and she's at the point in her life where she can't be bothered with the "not biological" aspect. These people at this table are her family. 

"That's enough for today with this talk," Logan declares. "No more serious stuff. Let's have some more fun!" 

"Pickle!" screams Wim so close to Logan's ear that he hears ringing. Logan wonders how many times they've played this ball-tossing game, how many times he's tagged one of these boys at the table, how many times he's bent over from laughing when Dre hops from foot to foot stuck between bases, how many times he still has left to play this game with the boys he loves like his own. 

"What's green and flies?" Dre asks while giggling. 

"Super Pickle," moan Rini and Wim in unison. 

"I'll clean up here," Katie says while smiling. "That way you have the right amount of people for two teams. I'll sub in when I'm done. And, Wim, please try not to hit Dre in the head. Let's avoid ambulances and urgent care today." 

"Wait. We've also got brownies. Pickle or brownies," Veronica says. The choice between a game or a dessert is as tempting as the future. How will she and Logan cope with being around each other every day? How will she fit him into her London life? How can she be both afraid of the future and know it's time for new things? "It's a choice between good and good. What's better than choosing between good and good?"

"Having it all!" shout all three boys in unison. 

Veronica is grateful that she doesn't have to choose between the good and the good in her life. She won't be asked to give up one thing to sacrifice something else. She can love it all, live it all. There's just so much good left to come.

**Author's Note:**

>  **Non-English Words:** After talking to other writers, I decided not to italicize most non-English words in this short story. The Latin phrase is italicized as it seems to be the standard for this particular Latin phrase. Here is a list of the words with their translations. 
> 
> • "Schatje" is Dutch for "baby."
> 
> • "Broertje" is Dutch for "baby brother."
> 
> • "Quelles oranges" is a French slang term that literally translates to "What oranges." 
> 
> • "In utero" is Latin for before birth. 
> 
> **Names:** Mateo's and Katie's sons have been given Dutch names because of Katie's Dutch heritage. Here is an explanation of why I chose these names. 
> 
> • Rien's name is in honor of Dutch artist Rien Poortvliet. He is most famous for his books about gnomes. 
> 
> • Willem's name is in honor of the Dutch monarch King Willem Alexander. The diminutive form of the name is usually Wim. 
> 
> • Drewes is an old-fashioned name from the province of Groningen. Arjen is in honor of Arjen Robben, a Dutch football player who started and (likely) ended his career with FC Groningen. 
> 
> **Places:**  
>  • Schiermonnikoog is an island and a national park north of the province of Groningen but part of the province of Friesland. With a population of less than 1000 permanent residents, it hosts more than 300,000 tourists each year. 
> 
> • Cornelis Bol Park is a real park in Palo Alto and is named for a Dutch Stanford scientist. It is most famous for its donkey pasture. I have taken liberties with the amount of picnic area in that park. 
> 
> • There really are speed skating ovals in Oakland and San Jose. The Dutch, of course, are famous for skating and speed skating. 
> 
> **Musical Reference:**  
>  • "Roller Coaster" is a popular song in The Netherlands by Dutch musician Danny Vera. My favorite version is a live take found at https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cWe4e0_UmIc&list=RDcWe4e0_UmIc&start_radio=1.


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